The Third Apprentice (8 page)

Taren’s robe was
far from the most expensive attire a mage could own, but it was suited to many
different environments. Containing magical properties of its own, it was not a
garment he would easily cast aside. Still, the clothing these women offered him
would probably prove beneficial in a desert, so he was willing to make the
change and carry his robe with him in his pack.

Two women
approached carrying small bundles of white material. “We have altered these
garments for you,” one of them said, extending a bundle to Taren.

As he looked over
the white robe, he realized it was made of a woven material unlike the animal
skin clothing the women wore. This must have cost them a good amount in trade
to acquire. Gifting it to him was generous. “I thank you,” he said.

They handed the
second bundle to Zamna, who took it with a gracious nod. His scales would
protect him from heat and sand, but he would not refuse their gift. Even an
assassin knew when to avoid being rude. Besides, he might need to pass this way
again someday, and he wouldn’t want to offend the only people who could lead
him through the dense forest.

Taren observed a
hat in his bundle with a flap of cloth hanging loose. “A veil?” he asked out
loud.

Ursla laughed.
“That is to cover your face and shield it from wind and sand.” Taking the hat
from him, she positioned it on his head and showed him how to secure the flap.

Taren nodded,
understanding the need for such a garment. Desert winds could produce
sandstorms that would blind and choke him—a scenario he wasn’t looking forward
to. If he had Zamna’s abilities to close off his nostrils, he might feel better
prepared. “Thank you for these gifts,” Taren said. “Your kindness is most
appreciated.”

“You will know you
are free of the desert when a village appears to your south,” Ursla said. “We
traded there many generations ago.” She shook her head, adding, “I would never
believe a city dweller could make such a difficult journey through the desert,
but the gods have given you a sign. I believe you will survive.”

Taren felt slightly
anxious, but he did not show it. He could not put too much faith in Ursla’s
gods, but if they were on his side, all the better.

“We should get
going,” Zamna said. “
You’ve had your blessing, but you don’t have this
item you seek. So let’s get to it.”

“You’re right,” Taren agreed.

“At least stay and have breakfast with us,” Ursla
suggested. “There is much forest still ahead of you, and you will need your
strength to get through the wild.”

With all the talk of desert travel, Taren had
forgotten he would still have to make it out of the forest. “We’d be
delighted,” he said, glancing at Zamna. “We have to eat,” he added with a
shrug.

Zamna replied, “Quickly.” He was anxious to get
moving and continue the journey. Taren would probably be content to stay here
for weeks, and if he had to drag him away, then so be it. Relaxing in a forest
village wasn’t making the La’kertan any money, and he was ready to leave.

The women provided
them with a breakfast of fruit and roasted meat. Zamna devoured his and stared
at his companion as he took his time to taste each bite of food thoroughly
before swallowing. When the mage had finished, he changed out of his green robe
and into the desert attire the Sisters had provided. Instantly he felt cooler,
and he thought the lightweight fabric might make forest travel easier as well.
Laying his robe out flat in front of him, he retrieved a vial of clear liquid
from his bag. While the Sisters watched, he placed a few drops on each sleeve
and the tail while muttering a low incantation. The travel stains on the
garment disappeared before their eyes. The women laughed and clapped their
hands at this small display of magic.

Zamna scoffed,
unimpressed by such a mundane use of a mage’s abilities. “Will that same magic
be able to stop a sandstorm once we reach the desert?” he asked.

Taren rolled his
robe into a tight bundle and placed it inside his pack. “I doubt I have the power
to control the wind,” he admitted. “But I do know a few handy spells that I can
cast should we need them.” He smiled up at Zamna as he slung his bag over his
shoulder. “This journey is for me to prove myself a master wizard, remember? If
the desert is as treacherous as they say, I’ll have plenty of opportunities to
prove my usefulness.”

U
rsla provided
Taren with a larger animal skin pack to wear on his back. Inside, she placed
five bladders full of water, along with rations of meat, nuts, and berries. For
Zamna she provided only two waterskins. Members of his race could easily go
long periods without drinking. Though she did not know how long they would be
in the desert, she expected Taren would have more need of the two skins than Zamna
would. The assassin accepted them without a word, content to carry water for
the man who was leading him to treasure.

“You can find more water for him?” Ursla asked the
La’kertan.

Zamna nodded. “I’ve had some experience in deserts
before.”

Ursla turned to Taren. “If you get separated, look
for birds. They will lead you to water. If no birds, look for other animals.”
Glancing at Zamna, she said, “Not reptiles. They don’t go to water much. If you
see hills, make your way to them. There might be a creek or lake at the base of
those hills. If it’s dry, dig down to see if the sand gets darker. If so, there
is water. Keep digging.”

Taren nodded, happily accepting her words of
wisdom. “I have a few potions that will help with dehydration. I wouldn’t worry
too much.”

Ursla’s severe expression did not change. “Potions
might work,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve never used one. Remember what I told
you, just in case.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Go and be well,” she said, slapping him on his
back.

The Sisters followed the travelers to the southern
edge of the village, stopping as they got to the tree line. Taren turned and
waved, but Zamna only nodded. As they stepped in between the dense trees, the
women began to trill, lifting their voices in an unusual song. The sound drifted
on the wind, fading away as the pair continued deeper into the woods.

Though the forest was as untamed as before, Taren
felt it was somehow less wild. Knowing that the Sisters had made a home here changed
the way he saw these woods. Though the undergrowth was as thick as ever, and he
stumbled often on unseen obstacles, his spirits remained high.

Zamna stayed beside Taren at all times. It had
been a matter of luck that they had encountered the Sisters. That trap could
have been laid by less-friendly natives. These woods were expansive, and there
was plenty of room for rival tribes to exist. The Sisters had mentioned that
the men lived separately from them, but they did not say in which direction.
Would the men prove as friendly as the women had? Zamna didn’t care to find
out. He would keep Taren close to avoid further trouble. If the mage attempted
to stray, Zamna would stop him. Their goal for now was to reach the desert.
Then they would worry about what might lie ahead.

For two more days, they trudged through the dense
forest. Their travel was slow, thanks to the numerous obstacles in their path.
The forest seemed to grow thicker before it began to thin. By the third day,
the trees were becoming sparse, and the undergrowth had thinned considerably. They
walked with ease beneath the shade of the trees, enjoying themselves for a
change. Each step was no longer a struggle, and life was all around them.
Squirrels scurried along the branches, and a spotted deer took a break from
foraging to observe the odd pair.

“This is a forest I could get used to,” Taren
commented.

“Too bad we still have a long way to go,” Zamna
replied, continuing his southward march.

Taren felt rejuvenated as they camped for the
night beneath the bright stars. The day’s walk had almost been relaxing. There
was no trudging on, climbing over fallen trees, or tripping on tightly woven
brambles. Except for the day he had spent with the Sisters, this was the best
day he’d had since leaving his master. He felt hopeful now. Hope that he might
actually succeed in this quest, despite being the only apprentice to survive to
this point.

Imrit had expected the trio to work together, but
that didn’t mean the mission couldn’t be accomplished solo. Though, Taren
wasn’t exactly alone. Zamna had proved himself a loyal companion, and he was
happy to have his friendship. From now on, he would consider this man a friend.
After all, he had been willing to come to his aid when he thought his life was
in danger. That had to count for something. He wondered what it would take for
Zamna to consider him a friend. The La’kertan had seemed a bit more agreeable
since leaving the Sisters’ village. His manner was not as uptight, and Taren
was sure he was coming around. Maybe soon he would be willing to share a bit of
information about himself. Taren would like to know his companion better.

The night passed without incident, and a bright
morning arrived to replace the darkness. Birds heralded the sun’s arrival, and
the air smelled crisp and clean. Taren looked around at the deep-green foliage.
This was a place of beauty. Had he the choice, he would live in a land such as
this. Imrit had the right idea living far from town. This place was an
inspiration to magic.

“Time to go,” Zamna said, snapping Taren out of his
reverie.

Taren sighed. “I suppose so,” he agreed
reluctantly. Lifting his heavy pack, he hoisted it onto his back. As they
pressed on through the forest, the trees thinned more and more until there were
few to be seen. The sparse grass beneath their feet turned to sand, and they
paused to take a last look back at the fine green land.

Before them lay a desert of red sand, stretching
as far as the eye could see. The sky grew dark, and the wind cut through them
as it ripped its way across the dunes.

“A sandstorm to welcome us?” Taren asked.

Zamna bowed his head and said, “It seems so. We
should stay near the trees until it’s over. I don’t think we’ll find much cover
out there.”

Taren agreed, and the pair paced back a few yards
to take shelter behind a wide tree. Zamna retrieved the cloth hat the Sisters
had given him and placed it on his head. This was no time to worry about
fashion. The veiled hat would help keep the sand out of his eyes and allow him
to keep watching the route ahead. His last trip through a desert was
excruciating. He had learned to take advantage of any opportunity the barren
land offered. This time, he was determined to travel more wisely.

The storm finally died out, allowing the pair to
attempt entering the desert once again. Zamna bent down and removed his boots,
revealing five long fingerlike toes. Taren couldn’t help but stare at such
strange feet.

“It beats getting sand in your boots,” Zamna said
with a shrug. He placed the soft leather boots inside his pack and stretched
his toes, digging them into the sand. It was a pleasant, familiar sensation. In
La’kerta, his people rarely wore shoes.

Taren briefly considered going barefoot as well,
but the soft skin of his feet would probably be rubbed raw by the red sand.
Before this journey, his life consisted of little walking and plenty of time
sitting in a laboratory or library. He was by no means pampered, but his skin
wasn’t nearly as tough as that of his reptilian friend. Kneeling down, he
placed a hand on the sand to check the heat. It was not terribly hot, but the
sun was low in the sky. At midday, it might be scorching. Keeping his shoes on
seemed like the best option.

They trudged forward into the sand, and Taren
found it more difficult to maneuver through than the thick forest. With each
step he sank, forcing him to lift his feet higher than normal to continue
moving forward. The physical exertion was exhausting, and he doubted he would
make it far at this pace. Zamna seemed to have no trouble. His feet were shaped
nicely for navigating through sand.

After a few hours, Taren was begging to stop for a
rest. “I need a few minutes,” he said. “This sand is horrible.” Not only had it
climbed inside his boots, it had also made its way inside his clothes,
scratching at his neck, chest, and thighs.

They paused to take in their surroundings. Zamna
pointed to a spot a few yards to their left. “There’s a boulder there that
might block wind for a time. Maybe the sand isn’t as thick over there.” He
didn’t sound too hopeful about the latter.

As they reached the red boulder, Taren tossed his
bag to the ground and plopped himself on the sand. It was just as deep here as
anywhere else. With a sigh, he removed his boots and dumped the sand that had
piled inside. His feet were raw with blisters that ached more when exposed to
the air.

Zamna grimaced upon seeing his companion’s feet.
“Scales really are the way to go,” he joked with a hiss.

Digging through his shoulder bag, Taren produced a
small vial of orange liquid. Pulling out the stopper, he wrinkled his nose at
the pungent odor of the liniment inside. Giving the bottom of the bottle a
whack, he poured the thick liquid into his palm and rubbed his hands together.
When applied to his feet, the potion removed all traces of redness from his
skin. The relief was instant, the burning sensation being completely
obliterated by the potion’s healing effects.

“Not bad,” Zamna commented. “Will it prevent
future blisters?”

“It will provide something of a protective
barrier,” Taren replied. “But it can do only so much.”

Zamna reached into his pack and pulled out the
robe the Sisters had given him. “I don’t plan to wear this,” he said. “Maybe if
you wrap your feet with it, they won’t get so sore.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Taren said. “Thank
you.” He gladly took the robe and began tearing the bottom of it into small
strips. Wrapping them around his feet, he tested to be sure his foot could
still flex before shoving it back inside his boot.

Zamna stood to investigate the area behind the
boulder. To his surprise, a few small cactuses were blooming with yellow
flowers. Pulling out a dagger, he sliced off a segment and tasted it. The taste
was palatable, so he cut off a few more and returned to his companion.

Taren took a piece and inspected it. “This is
poisonous,” he declared. “You can tell by the milky liquid inside it.”

Zamna took another bite and chewed it. “Poisonous
to humans maybe.” He took the slice back from Taren. “It suits me just fine.
You’re welcome to my share of the rations.”

Taren snacked on pieces of dried fruit and took a
few sips of water. With luck, they would come by an oasis in a day or two. He
had yet to experience the ravages of the desert sun, and he didn’t wish to
drink too much of his water in case it became scarce.

Storing the extra cactuses in his bag, Zamna
asked, “Are we ready to move on.”

“Might as well,” Taren replied. For now, at least,
his feet were in walking condition.

They trudged on for hours, not stopping again
until well after nightfall. The coolness of the night air was a welcome relief,
and Taren dreaded the thought of tomorrow’s journey. They would be spending
their first full day in the desert sand, and it might be difficult to find
shelter from the blazing sun.

Before them in the distance lay the remnants of an
abandoned city. Rows of square houses constructed of dried mud bricks rose high
into the sky, some of them collapsing in on themselves. There was no sign of
movement within, their inhabitants having long since vanished from this land.

“Looks like we’ve found a place for the night,”
Zamna said, leading the way into the ruined village.

The sand was not as deep as they reached what had
been the center of the ancient town. At one time, this had been a hub of
activity. Now, it lay dormant and uncared for in the middle of a wasteland.

“I wonder who lived here,” Taren said. “Where did
they go?”

“I don’t know,” Zamna replied, ducking his head
into one of the houses. Glancing around, he added, “This one looks sturdy
enough to sleep in.”

“I suppose there’s no need for a fire in this
heat,” Taren said, setting down his gear.

“It might keep the scorpions away,” Zamna hissed
with a grin.

Taren grimaced. He hadn’t thought what sort of
crawling things might live in this sand. Waking up to a scorpion on his face
wasn’t at the top of his to-do list.

“Don’t worry,” Zamna said. “I’ll eat it if it
comes near us.”

Taren wasn’t sure whether his friend was joking.
The building they had chosen featured a small circular window facing out upon
the desert. The stars twinkled above, providing a nice view of a desolate land.
From this angle, it appeared almost serene. The light of the stars reflected off
the sand, giving it an unearthly glow.

“If the sun proves too hot, we might want to move
at night,” Zamna said, unrolling his bed. “So long as the sky stays clear.”

“That will help with the heat but not the sand,”
Taren said, removing his boots to find new blisters had formed on his feet. “I
wonder if I should go barefoot too,” he said. “The sand seems to be finding its
way inside my shoes regardless.”

“As long as you keep them wrapped to protect you
from the heat, it might help,” Zamna replied. “It might also allow sand into
your wrappings, and then you’re back where you started.”

Taren groaned, not sure what was the best course
of action. He rubbed at his calves, which were also aching from the day’s
exertion. In the thick sand, he had used muscles he didn’t even know he had in
order to keep his balance.

“Don’t you have a spell for that?” Zamna asked.
“You’re supposed to be some sort of healer, aren’t you?”

“In some situations I am,” he replied. “In others,
I’m just the person you buy your potions from.”

“You do know a few useful spells, don’t you?”
Zamna was beginning to wonder what the point of his magic was if he only
crafted potions.

“Of course I do,” Taren replied defensively. “I
just haven’t had need of them yet.” Though he had not mastered all the
elements, he considered himself proficient with a variety of different spells.
He could cast at least one spell from each school of magic, and he could cast
several involving earth magic. His main focus had been on potions, but Master
Imrit had made sure he learned a sufficient number of spells to protect
himself. This journey was Imrit’s idea, and he had trained his apprentices for
whatever they might encounter along the way. Taren hoped it was enough. He
didn’t feel particularly powerful, and Tissa and Djo would have been much
better with offensive magic. So far there had been no need for such spells, and
Taren was grateful.